


Molly, Interrupted

by Oliviatheolive (volcanogrrrl)



Category: Queer As Folk - Fandom, Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Drama, Family, Gen, Short Story, Teenage struggles, unlikely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volcanogrrrl/pseuds/Oliviatheolive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Fuck everything and everyone if it doesn’t make Brian want to scoop her up and hold her, because right now, Molly Taylor is tugging on every single one of his heartstrings like she’s playing Paganini’s Caprice in E minor. And Brian Kinney hates fiddlers, but damn it all to hell if he isn’t moved by her teenage struggles for love and acceptance. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molly, Interrupted

Molly shows up on his doorstep on Sunday evening drenched from head to toe in rain water, wearing a marooned colored dress, black knee high socks and her bedazzled combat boots. Even her hair looks different besides the fact that it’s soaking wet. It was as if she made more of an effort with it than usual which was a rarity within itself.

Ever since Brian had run into the teenager that one late afternoon in search for a caffeine fix and had offered out of politeness to buy Molly lunch, she had become a permanent fixture in his Taylor free life.

It started innocent enough with her reaching out to him from time to time when she was in need, like the time she called him when she was stranded.

_“Hi Brian, this is Molly. Molly Taylor. I left my keys in the house this morning and I have no way of getting inside, can I come and stay with you until my mom comes back home?”_

And then that one time when she called asking if he would study with her.

_“Hey Brian! I have a really big chemistry exam tomorrow and I’m so lost. You’re so smart, do you think you could help me?”_

And _then_ that other time when she was interested in the advertising business for all of five minutes.

_“Brian, can I help out at Kinnetic today? I saw this really interesting ad and I wanted to ask…”_

She had buttered him up with her fourteen-year-old manipulations, M&M candies in cigarette boxes and horribly styled blue hair. The saddest part about it all was that it had worked. Each and every time Brian had gone out of his way to help her, he truly believed it would be a one-time deal, but he should’ve known nothing is ever one time with a Taylor.

So, of course, Molly became slowly and surely a part of his routine. After all, she made a point of visiting him every Tuesday and Thursday after school, either at Kinnetic or at his home. Sometimes even on Saturday mornings in which he would bring her along with him to the diner for brunch with the guys. Somehow, Brian gradually began to like Molly’s company and to see the youngest Taylor as just another child he would have to pass on his impeccable life skills and secrets to success to.

But she never came on Sunday’s. Sunday’s were reserved solely for Craig, her father.

Which is exactly why Brian has a strong inkling to believe that whatever brought Molly Ann Taylor to his loft this evening, eating his food, lying on his nice Italian couch, and watching a movie he doesn’t care for, has to be Craig related.

Also, Mother Taylor phoned him last week about Craig canceling their plans to hang out these last couple of weeks. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out that this one is the third time, even though Molly has yet to speak a word since she’s arrived.

It’s not until their parked in front of the TV, Molly curled up on the couch watching Girl, Interrupted and Brian sitting next to her. Feet propped up on the living room table, reviewing Kinnetic's and Babylon’s financial statements, is when she finally speaks.

“I used to think about doing that,” says Molly in a soft voice, after clearing her throat a few times. Brian looks up from the statements, eyes flickering over to the TV screen.

Molly has never commented during the suicide attempt.

“Not that way.” Gesturing to the girl in the movie taking a handful of pills. “Something more…guaranteed,” she tells him, watery blue eyes never leaving the screen. “Sometimes…. after school I walk past Main & Kenmore. It’s always busy when I’m walking home, you know? Around 2 there’s a-ah- a ton of cars zooming by and every time I stop at the intersection I-I think…why not? Just take one step….and it’ll all be over.”

He clears his throat, running clammy hands along the rough fabric of his jeans at a loss for words. Brian doesn’t feel equipped to be having this conversation with her and wonders if he should phone her mother.

Justin certainly never talked about ending his life to him nor Michael for that matter.

But Brian stumbles over his thoughts anyways to think of an appropriate response because although her eyes haven’t left the screen, he knows that she’s waiting for him, waiting for his next action.

“But you haven’t-?” It comes out more like a question, which is idiotic because of course she hasn’t, Molly’s sitting right next to him, wearing a pair of his old sweats with a towel wrapped around her rain soaked hair. Molly’s very much alive.

“No, not yet,” she says, sneaking a quick glance over at him. “I don’t think about it as much.”

“What-what makes you think about it?”

“School. When I’m alone,” and then quietly, she adds, “My dad.”

Brian bobs his head in understanding. “You were supposed to meet up with him today weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but that’s not what’s bothering me,” Molly tells him quickly, but Brian doesn’t believe her for a second. Her body is still turned away from him, arms curled around her knees in the fetal position like she’s shielding herself from some invisible force. Brian doesn’t like it and he especially doesn’t like how it makes him feel.

Protective and angry. Briefly Brian contemplates whether these newly discovered feelings of wanting to shelter her stem from his love for Justin or the fact that Molly looks so much like him.

But then again, they’re one and the same, aren’t they?

“No…I don’t know. I guess that bothers me. I don’t know. I wish I knew,” Molly says with an airy laugh. “I guess sometimes I worry that he’ll get rid of me like he did Justin, you know?” Brian knows all too well about that time, he was there, providing Justin with a place to live when Craig set those awful restrictions on his head. “Sometimes he looks at me like…. I don’t know, like he doesn’t trust me, like he doesn’t want me, like I’m no good. I feel like these little once a week meetings are just a cover; you know? Just to keep up the pretense.”

Brian’s eyebrows knit together. “And you think your death will make it better?”

Molly shrugs and then smiles. “The extreme always seems to make an impression,” she comments, quoting The Heathers, another Wionna Ryder film.

Brian sighs, thinking of the many ways Mother Taylor will kill him once she finds out that he let her suicidal daughter watch not one, not two, not three but four R rated movies in his company. Three of the films discuss suicide as casual as book reports, which Molly regularly quotes. This is a perfect example of why young children shouldn’t be left in his company.

But Veronica from the Heathers sure enough did have a point, the extreme always seems to make an impression. If his business had a motto it would be that.

“What impression would that be?” He asks curiously.

“That I matter,” she says, sitting up and crossing her short legs on the couch. “Do you know that saying you don’t miss something until it’s gone?” she asks, finally looking over at him.

“You don’t know what you have until it’s gone,” he corrects her.

She nods. “Yeah, exactly.”

When Brian doesn’t say anything afterwards Molly chews on her bottom lip viciously before turning back to the TV. Arms wrapping around her knees, her chin and mouth disappear within the space between her chest and legs. Fuck everything and everyone if it doesn’t make Brian want to scoop her up and hold her, because right now, Molly Taylor is tugging on every single one of his heartstrings like she’s playing Paganini’s Caprice in E minor. And Brian Kinney hates fiddlers, but damn it all to hell if he isn’t moved by her teenage struggles for love and acceptance.

After a short internal battle, Brian settles with placing a supportive hand on her shoulder, but just as soon as his palm lands on her back, Molly gazes up at him with a look he can only interpret as heart wrenching hopefulness and curiosity mixed altogether. The next second later he finds himself with arms full of fourteen-year-old girl, face buried in towel and blue hair, and his body pressing into the arm rest of the couch, hard.

She whispers into his neck, voice coming out with soft puffs of warm air, as if she’s afraid that some unknown invisible force will over hear her. “I don’t think anyone understands. I don’t think anyone gets it. I know I sound so petty.” He rubs the middle of her back, alternating between rubbing and patting, feeling useless and at a loss of how to comfort her. “Who thinks about killing themselves just because they think their dad doesn’t love them or because their lonely anyways?”

When her arms tighten around his shoulders, Brian feels the first few drops of hot tears. “It’s stupid. I’m so stupid.”

He shakes his head and says, “You’re not stupid.”

“Just please don’t tell my mom about this,” she whispers back. Brian knows that he should put more thought into this decision. He knows that he should think about the pros and cons of keeping this a secret from the person who cares about Molly the most in this world, but he doesn’t. It takes him less than a split second to promise her that he won’t.

Brian clears his throat. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. “I’ve thought about it too,” he says, voice wavering, because this is all new territory for him and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering to explore it. “Tried it a few times as well.”

Molly pulls her face back to look up at him, eyes red and cheeks faintly blushed. Her arms are still around his neck, loose now, but her knobby knees press painfully into his left thigh, but he doesn’t dare to move her away.

“When?”

“When I was younger,” Brian tells her, ignoring his most recent attempt that only Michael knows about.

She chews on this piece of information for a second. “What stopped you?”

Brian bites the inside of his cheek. “Divine intervention.”

Molly frowns back in confusion but Brian isn’t interested in enlightening her on how he managed to survive in that way. His failed suicide attempts were definitely not from lack of forethought. No, something else kept him alive and is still keeping him alive to this day.

“I had a crappy home life. Old man used to beat on my mom and me.” Molly nods along like she understands and Brian realizes in this moment that this is the part that matters. This is the moment Molly will probably remember when she looks back on this conversation, when she contemplates whether or not to commit suicide, and it makes Brian nervous.

“I used to go out of my way to please him,” he says, feeling his chest hollow out. “I thought if I was good. If I got good grades, did well in soccer and kept my room clean that he wouldn’t hurt me, that he would like me.” Then belatedly, quietly, he adds, “We all thought that.”

Molly lowers her head, eyes stuck on one of the buttons of his shirt. Brian wonders if she’s having trouble looking at him as well.

But he needs to say this, Brian needs to tell her what kept him alive after all these years. What made him into the success that he is now, if you can call living alone and with few close friends a success, but nevertheless its kept him alive.

“Listen to me. _Listen to me._ Are you listening?”

Glancing up, eyes still watery, she nods. “I’m listening.”

“Good. Know this, as a little kid, you need your parents to feed you, bathe you and comfort you but when you’re older it’s different. You start to be able to do all those things yourself. I was your age when I realized that I was the only person I could count on and the only person I’d ever need.” Blue eye gaze intensely back at him. Brian can tell that she’s drinking up each and every word he says.

Molly leans back against him, staring at the TV screen in the now darken living room, her arms still wound around him and her head against his shoulder, thinking.

It’s not until they watch Wionna Ryder end up in the psychiatric hospital does Molly speak again.

“I’m the only person I need,” she says, gazing up at him. “Because I’m the only person I’ll ever truly have.”

“Exactly.”


End file.
